Author Florence Ayscough Yellow orioles, two, call from willows, kingfisher-green; White egrets, a line, rise to sky, bright-blue. Window holds in its lips Western Range; snow of a thousand Autumns; Anchored to gate-post Eastern Wu boats; they travel ten thousand li . Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments